How To Raise a Ten Year Old During the Apocalypse
by KatxValentine
Summary: -During Season VII, possibly eventual Faith/Buffy pairing- After Willow and Buffy activate each Potential, the gang finds themselves in over their heads with a very unique one. Enter Cassie, a hyperactive ten year old. One problem. She's a Slayer.
1. Slayer Troubles

Welcome to another one of my weird, quirky ideas. So after going through season VII of _Buffy_ again, a curious thought hit me. Why Is it that none of the Potentials-made-Slayers are little kids? Potentials are found at young ages, so how is it not possible that at least one of them was some puny little tyke? Meet Cassidy, who is an overly hyperactive, rambunctious, power-abusive excuse for a ten year old—who just happens to have been called as a Slayer. When she's brought into the Summers home by Giles and brought to the Scoobie Gang's attention, they learn this is going to be harder than first thought. Essentially, raising a child with superpowers during the imminent apocalypse is a tough job.

I own no one except Cassidy. On with the show!

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When Giles brought the kid in, Buffy found her to be the most unremarkable-looking child she'd ever set eyes upon. Her hair was dirty-blonde, a slight unruly wave to the otherwise straight strands, and her eyes were a blatantly dull shade of reddish-brown.

There was a mistake. There had to be, Buffy was sure of it. Fate was never wrong, _destiny_ was never wrong, but there had to have been an error.

"Giles—this is a…._kid."_ the blonde grimaced, though, and looked the little one up and down. She was sure the girl didn't push more than four-foot-six or seven. The kid was hardly tall enough to cross the street on her own, let alone defend from the forces of evil and slay the undead. Wasn't there a height quota for killing vampires?

"Yes, I am aware of this, Buffy," The stuffy, British Watcher pulled his glasses from his face evenly, and busily got to work trying to wipe away all remnants of _everything_ from them. "But the fact is that she's managed to stake a vampire who…uh…_harmed_ her mother and she's told me she's been having some very peculiar dreams about several women. This is all remarkably young to be coincidental, don't you think? And all the help required is of the utmost necessity."

Buffy always knew that was what she hated most. When Giles was right. And it was an awfully typical occurrence.

"I want my mommy," the girl squeaked out, and pushed her knees against her chest stubbornly. The child had a sweet little face; Buffy would admit that, an innocent face that would make her seem at least two years younger no matter what age she was, "I want my mommy _now."_

"Get a load'uh the daycare center. What's with the runt?"

"According to Giles we're looking at Slayer numero three."

"Well, fuck me with a lawnmower. Are they runnin' out of us this quick? Or are they just makin' 'em younger nowadays?"

"Faith, she's just lost her mother. Can you tune down the 'tude a little? This has to be a little _too_ much for her. She's nothing but a little girl. I—"

"I want _mommy."_

The girl's insistent pout read it all. She wanted her mother, but there was no way that would possibly work out. Too late to react to Slayer-reflexes she wasn't familiar with, the child had managed to slay the vampire so eagerly killing her mother, but had not been in time to save the woman from an imminent fate worse than death. As a result, there was no mommy. She lacked a mommy. There was no _mommy_ to want.

"Great way to ring in the apocalypse, B. With a side-order of pre-K toddler." Faith's expression was smug, and she clasped her hands behind her head and leaned back into them. The little one on the floor finally sniffled, a meek sound, and rubbed an arm across her eyes to swipe the tears away. She seemed to be somehow assessing Faith, but the brunette didn't much mind it. She leaned over at the waist, pressed her hands to her knees, and then made a small coo. "What's your name, baby bird?"

"Don't say that to strangers."

"Her name is Cassidy," Giles cut in swiftly, and finally realized all semblance of dust was gone from his glasses. He found himself overwhelmingly satisfied. "She moved here only last year from Philadelphia. I caroused her academic records."

"Is it just Cassidy, or do your friends call you anything different?"

The girl sniffled again, deeper this time, and inhaled harshly through her nose. It even _sounded_ uncomfortable. She glanced up again at the two Slayers around her—Buffy, whose mouth was drawn into a perhaps-smile, and Faith, who was half-knelt, an arm slung lazily over the knee of one leg.

"Cassie. My friends call me Cassie."

In the meantime, as Giles attempting to comfort the newly-ordained Slayer into a state of lulled ease, the Chosen Two (or had once been, were now part of the Chosen Several) were discussing this carefully with their backs turned.

"B, what the hell we gonna do with her? Play Connect Three?"

"It's Connect _Four_, Faith. And there's nothing we _can_ do. No matter what, she's still a Slayer."

Neither of them paid much attention as a red-headed Witch sauntered into the Summers home, a stack of books swaying in her arms as she went. There was never a _Demon Slaying for Dummies _in there, or a _Your Vampire and You_ text, as Faith always loved to joke, but Willow _was_ an imperative part of the learning process. She'd overheard the brief, hushed mumblings, and saw the serious looks on both Slayer's faces. Serious was not an expression Faith, of all people, often wore, so Willow imagined the circumstances were dire in some way. And when it slipped past her ears, "Where's she stayin'? The kid's got no family," Willow realized just what the situation at hand was.

Giles had told her about this. She and Giles made a crack team, after all. This must have been the _very_ little Slayer he'd said he'd be picking up. She was the right height, Willow saw, and it never ceased to amaze her how either cruel or strange the world could be.

This wasn't a Slayer. Hell, it didn't even look like a middle school student.

"I want my _mommy_, Mister Giles."

And Willow did the first smart thing that came to mine. Once she stumbled in, set down her pile of books carefully and looked over at the tiny blonde girl, she smiled. "We-We're your mom's friends, Cassidy, she asked us to…uh—to look after you!"

The tearful ten year old glanced backward, eyes big and brown and pleading, then her lip jutted out quickly into a voracious pout. She did not know who this red-headed woman was, but the word 'mom' was enough to catch her immediate attention.

Naïve, trusting and timid, Cassie sobbed in the back of her throat and nodded shyly. Something about the Witch set her at a state of infinite ease, but the child couldn't even begin to explain it. It was like warmth that she wanted back, one that'd been taken from her so quickly. When that mean man had jumped on mommy, she knew there would be problems. And when she got rid of the mean man and mommy wasn't getting up, something felt decidedly more hopeless than it had before. If the old, British fellow with the funny way of talking hadn't shown up, she was almost sure she would have clung to mommy and cried.

"Really? W-When will I see mommy again?"

"I don't think seein' mommy should be such a high priority on this kid's list." Faith shot, but the remark was stomped out when Buffy lightly smacked her upside the head. Lightly, however, was not really the word.

Buffy still sighed, playing a hand through her pinned-up golden hair with a slight grimace, "Let's go get her a room ready. Dawn's not going to like this sitch. Maybe we can keep them from meeting each other or something."

With a roll of her eyes and a quick mutter beneath her breath, Faith only groaned and followed.


	2. Calming Notion

"The fuck we gonna do, B?" At five in the morning, the only two organisms that were awake (and not very sane) were the fantastic Slayer duo. Faith had sprawled unceremoniously along the couch, an arm slung over her eyes. She was definitively exhausted and nothing was exactly improving, to be honest. Buffy glanced over from the end of the couch. Both sighed. "We're gonna have to play parental units to mighty mouse."

The child-Slayer was situated upstairs, beside Dawn's own room. Dawn hadn't yet been awarded the pleasure of making acquaintance with the newest 'adolescent' of the house, but Buffy assumed there would be preparing to do. Dawn wouldn't be thrilled with this idea.

"She's having a hard time, Faith. Cool the animosity." The brunette arched a delicate eyebrow and muttered a breezy 'whatever' to no one in particular. "She's just a kid. Don't you remember what it was like to be all...scared and weird and little?"

Faith supposed those all described quite well. Scared and weird and little. The kid was gradually being pushed into understanding that she'd nowhere else to go, and the delicate Willow had managed to tuck the wee lass into bed soundly. She was reluctant to sleep in this strange house, with these strange people. Buffy was just thanking the maybe-existent god that Cassie hadn't gained a Super-man complex.

"Well, I finally got her to stop crying." Willow wandered down the stairs, idly trailing down the railing with the tip of a finger. She was smiling timidly, in that Willow way that they were all so comfy-cozy with. "She's all sleepy now. She's a wiggly little kid, and pretty hard to catch."

"Congrats, Red, you bested a Slayer." Faith grinned idly for just a moment, that coyote smirk of her's, and it disappeared when Willow gave this look of comical amusement. The brunette was only kidding, of course.

"Well, she wasn't so bad. I just promised her waffles for breakfast." Willow glowed quite brightly, excessively proud of her recent feats. The girl hadn't been too horrendous; you just needed to know how to handle little ones. The necessity in life, Willow had found, to caring for children, was patience and complete sweetness. That was all that was necessary; the careful ability to coddle a kid.

"Then it's your duty to cook up those waffles, Will." Buffy groaned, just stirring out of a half-sleep. The ability to pay attention was waning. The edges of her mind were already fraying with the exhaustion brought on by the child's incessant tears.

Willow was prepared for the next morning's work, and comfortably tugged on the fuzzy, flannel pajamas with pink stripes. She was tired after such an ordeal, and understandably so. Cassie was already turning out to be a handful. Faith was almost upset with Giles for dashing headfirst into tossing a brat into their laps and then retreating from the battle.

She bade a good night to the Slayer Duo (a kiss to the cheek for Buffy, an initiation high-five ala Faith, ending in an awkward fumble ala Willow) and the silence overcame again. It settled in like a thick blanket of snow neither of them had ever known. Faith was sans CD player or anything of the musical nature, which Buffy found genuinely odd. An iPod always accompanied Faith wherever she went (where she'd gotten this device, none of them knew) or something that made any type of sound. Faith _hated_ quiet, and Buffy inwardly mused that she could recall a lyric or a poem from somewhere that sort of explained Faith's problem with silence. _The quiet scares me 'cause it screams the truth._

Looking over at Faith silently, the blonde couldn't help but wonder if Faith was still travelling down that redemption path she'd lately been so adhered to. She would admit that she admired it, in the same way she'd always admired it in Angel. The devout desire they'd both had to do 'good' after doing so much 'evil' had struck an impressive chord in Buffy, so she spoke up to break the solitude.

"You wanna cup of coffee, Faith?"

"Wouldn't mind it much."

Her mood was somewhere between pensive and placid, Buffy could hear it in her voice. If there was one thing she knew about Faith it was that Faith shouldn't ever be left alone. She brooded if kept to her own silence too long, stewed so obviously in her own self-obsessed angst that she'd quietly mutter around the house. Her mood just got bad—no, not bad, more like irritating.

Buffy's patience for that attitude was next to none, honestly.

"Ever miss Sunnydale?" The question had taken her by honest surprise, but she turned on a heel, her head tilted curiously. Faith asking her about things, now that was a new development. "Ya know, since it was your… home an' all."

"Yeah, but…I miss a lot'a stuff." She found herself wandering into the kitchen, burdened and haunted by the thoughts of what she knew she'd left behind. It had been a lot to take, hadn't it? Her mother's death (it still felt, every time she thought she thought about it, like a raw and throbbing wound. Patrol never hurt this much), the destruction of her familiar hometown. Bitterly, and with some cynicism, she'd figure a psychiatrist would call this a symbolic loss of childhood. Whatever.

She hadn't expected, when she turned around and flicked the coffee pot on, to see Faith sitting lazily at the head of the kitchen table. Her legs were crossed clumsily, her expression something unreadable. They had trouble with each other sometimes, Buffy learned, because it was almost iffy to tell just _how_ each of the Slayers was feeling. 'Slayer connection' or not, they were both still people.

"Kid's movin' around," Faith muttered, and carefully slid the cigarette from behind her ear. That had become a new habit of her's—more convenient, when she lacked pockets to put it in. Her lighter was somewhere in the kitchen, she knew that much, and cocked her eyebrow to indicate the drawer as Buffy shot her a quizzical glance, "She's as restless as a fuckin' squirrel."

When they'd both glanced past the doorway, they'd noticed something. A pair of big, brown eyes were transfixed on them both, peeking shyly just into the room.

Faith let out a casual grin of greeting, which was ultimately more carnivorous next to Buffy's sweet, awkward "Hey."


End file.
